Calling In Dead
by triggerhappy.antagonist
Summary: Edward And Heiderich Oneshot. How Far Would Edward Go To Get Out Of Work? He Would Fake His Own Death, That's How Far. But Alfons Is Too Tenacious To Let Him Go Without A Fight.


**Calling In Dead**

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Alfons Heiderich threw open the door to Edward's bedroom. He would not bother to knock, considering that previous endeavors at awakening Edward with such actions proved futile. It was much easier to simply barge in.

"Rise and shine, Edward," Alfons exclaimed as he made for Edward's bed and shook the diminutive bundle lying beneath the bed covers. "Come on, Ed, it's time to go to work."

From beneath the blankets, Edward emitted a heavy groan. "Nooooo," he whined, voice muffled by his pillow. "I can't go to work today. I'm dying."

"Oh, Ed…" Alfons sighed as he went over to Edward's dresser and pulled out his typical attire that consisted of bland brown leggings, a matching vest, his trademark drug-dealing trench coat and a pair of loafers that complemented his feminine feet.

"Come on, Ed. Stop shitting around," Alfons went back to poke at the lump that was Edward. "We have to be at work by a quarter-past eight. So get up."

"Nooooo," Edward whined. "I told you I can't. I'm dying."

"Edward, you're not dying," Alfons replied firmly. "Now, come one, get up. We're going to be late."

"Yes, I am dying," the alchemist said, punctuating his words with a dramatic cough. "I'm dying right as we speak. If I went to work, I might die right there in front of everyone, and it would cause a panic because I'd be dead."

"Edward, you're obviously not dying if you can conjure up bullshit like that," Alfons retorted, gripping Edward's covers and jerking them off to expose the blond-haired alchemist, lying in a tight little ball with his golden hair splayed around him.

"What are you doing?" Edward grunted, cracking open a bleary eye to glare at Heiderich. "I'm dying and you deprive me of my only source of warmth? How dare you?" Edward reached out feebly with his automail arm to try and grasp the blanket.

"How dare I?" Alfons repeated derisively as he held the covers just out of the blond's reach. "How dare _you_ to deprive _me_ of my work time? I lose income over this, you know, and with several years of _the great depression_ coming up, we haven't a dime to spare."

Edward paid his friend no attention, instead focusing on keeping his poor, exposed, partially-covered body warm against the frigid autumn air. "I'm freezing. I'm becoming hypothermic. Alfredo, give me back my blankies."

"Alfons," Alfons corrected. "And no, I will not give you back your blankies. You are a grown man, Ed, and it's time to start acting like one. So, come on. Up you go." He slipped his hands under Edward's fetal-positioned body and gently rolled him off the bed.

Edward fell to the floor with a painful noise, and lie there motionless, as if his body had gone flaccid. "Hideherdick, how could you?" he whimpered, fixing Alfons with a pained look. "I'm dying here, and you push me off the bed and onto the cold, germ-infested floor. Why are you so cruel to me?"

Alfons rolled his eyes and walked over to the other side of the bed, where he stooped down beside the shivering alchemist. "Edward, this is ridiculous. You are not dying. You're just making up excuses so you can get out of work."

"And now you're accusing me of lying while I lay here on the floor, helpless and frail, struggling to breathe as agony racks through my dying body…"

"What are you talking about?" Alfons exclaimed. "You're fine! Your breathing is fine, you're not even in any pain! Look at yourself, Edward! You're doing the worm on the floor right now as I speak!"

"Huh?" Edward suddenly realized that he had indeed been performing a very adroit worm dance, and instantly let himself go flaccid again. "Noooooo, Alfonzo, I'm having a mass seizure. Look, there's blood leaking out of my ear. I'm dyyyyying."

"For goodness sake, Edward," Alfons uttered. "You're rolling in ketchup, not blood. And if you'd had a seizure you would be unconscious right now."

"I am unconscious," Edward replied weakly, turning over onto his stomach. "And I did just have a seizure, and that's blood leaking out of my ear, and I'm still dying. So, if you'd please just leave me to pass on in peace…"

"Ed, you are _not _dying. You are perfectly _fine_," Alfons said firmly. "Now, hurry and get up. This is getting annoying."

"I told you, I caaaaaan't. I'm dyyyyying."

"What are you even dying from?" Alfons asked. "People don't just up and die, you know."

There was a brief pause, in which Edward became suddenly subdued. "It's cancer of the uvula," he said sullenly. "I just caught it last night, when I licked that chicken nugget I found in the back of the freezer. Also, I think there's a malignant tumor in the back of my head someplace."

Heiderich was momentarily taken by surprise, and not just because he forgot what the uvula was. He had been anticipating a more facile disease from the mentally-corrupted blond; something like _tumor-syphilis-itis-osis,_ or _phallic hemorrhage_, as Edward had previously used as an excuse.

"Uvula cancer?" he repeated.

"Yes. My dangly throaty thingie has cancer," Edward confirmed, inclining his head lugubriously. "And it's spreading to my heart. I don't have much time left, Faustino. Soon, I will go into cardiac arrest, and I… will die."

"Alfons," Alfons corrected, heaving an irritated sigh. "And you don't have uvula cancer, because it doesn't exist yet. Now you're just being exasperating."

Edward faked another weak cough. "Say what you please, Alfred, but you can't stop the will of God. I can see him now, smiling at me, beckoning me to him. And Mum… oh, Mum's there, too. She's reaching out to hug me… oh, and the light… it's beautiful. I'm dying now, Alfons… goodbye… I will see you in the afterlife. Goodbye now, Al… goodbye, goodbye…"

Edward closed his eyes. His body suddenly went limp. He exhaled a shallow breath, and then became motionless.

A wave of tense silence swept past, only to be broken when Alfons snorted derisively. "Okay, sure, Ed. You're dead. Right. You just up and died one morning without explanation. Uvula cancer doesn't exist, you know. But the law of nature is bent for you, because you're special. Imbecile. And you do all this just so you can avoid going to work."

Alfons chuckled with mocking scorn as he stood up and grabbed the clothes he had picked out for Edward. "You really put me through the ringer, kid. You know that? All this shit you pull, dying and such, it's quite entertaining. But now's not the time for jokes, Ed. So get up."

Not an indication of response manifested itself upon the immobile alchemist.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot that you died. Ha, ha," Alfons feigned a laugh. "Well, I'm not just going to leave you to lie on the floor in only your boxers and a tanktop." He grabbed Edward's forearms and jerked the younger man upright. He had a notion that Edward, who disliked having his personal space invaded, would surrender his prank.

Unfortunately, that did not seem to be the case. Edward's body was completely flaccid, making it increasingly difficult for Alfons to put his shirt on, and even more so difficult to pull on his trousers. Edward was as limp as a quadriplegic.

"Come on, Elric. Stop being so difficult," Heiderich growled as he struggled to tug the blond's enervated arms through the sleeves of his trench coat. Edward only proceeded to loll about as if he had become an aqueous form.

"Fine, have it your way," Alfons grunted, relinquishing his hold on the alchemist, who now had his trousers pulled halfway up his legs and only one arm of his trench coat on. Edward flopped to the floor. "But don't think that just because you died you are getting out of work today. Come on, up and at 'em, Ed. We have fifteen minutes."

Alfons hooked his fingers under the blond's arms and dragged him out of his bedroom and out the door. Edward's trousers dragged on the ground, pushing them down to his ankles. Damp grass and dirt stained the back of his bare legs.

"Aladdin, why must you torture me so?" Edward murmured weakly, wrinkling his face as grit stung the backs of his knees.

"I thought you were dead," Alfons grunted.

"I died momentarily. I was revived, but very soon, I will die for real."

"Oh, Edward!" Heiderich groaned in exasperation, rolling his eyes even though the action wasn't visible to Edward. "You're being ridiculous, you know that? You're not dying, and you know it. You just want to get out of work so I have to do double-shifts to make up for your leave."

Edward nodded his head fiercely. "Exactly. Glad you understand." He shuffled uncomfortably as Alfons dragged him across an intersection. Several people quirked their brows at the odd sight of the tall man dragging a half-dressed blond down the street.

"Ed, please. You're making a scene," Alfons hissed, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. "Come on, stand up. This is preposterous. Look, we're already five minutes late."

"The light! It has returned!" Edward gasped, ignoring everything that his comrade previously said. "Ooh, it's so pretty and blue… Alfy, they're calling me again. They're promising doughnuts and all-you-can-drink cheap open-house coffee… they're calling me, Alfy. I have to go with them…"

A small crowd of people had begun to gather around the two men, and were now staring inquisitively at the young blond as he pantomimed a dramatic death.

"Edward!" Alfons hissed. "Stop being so dramatic and get up! Look it, you're drawing a crowd."

"Alfyyy, Alfyyyyy," Edward moaned, reaching a hand toward the sky. "Alfyyyyy, they're calling me. They want me to go with them. Goodbye, Alfy. Goodbye now. Edward is dying now. Goodbye, Alfy. Goodbye… goodbye…"

Edward unceremoniously went limp. The small crowd stared at him, murmuring amongst themselves about the shortened lifespan of dwarves and which serial killer escaped from solitary and whose scarf is this and how many saw that show at the theatre about the blind ventriloquist. Yes, it was kind of nice, but it was a little difficult to comprehend because the ventriloquist's eyes kept going crossed.

"Oh, for God's sake," Alfons mumbled, once again grabbing Edward's arms and hauling him up to drag him away from the crowd and down the street. "This is the worst thing you've ever done to me, Edward Elric. You take _exasperating _to a whole new level."

Edward didn't respond.

Heiderich grudgingly proceeded to haul the blond across another road and into a tall building. Inside, several men hastily ran about, building rockets and wielding metal and laughing at gay jokes. Alfons inhaled the strong scent of rocket fuel and coughed.

"Hey, Heiderich." one of Alfons's blond-haired blue-eyed colleagues greeted as he walked up to meet the young engineer. "Hey, Edward." He paused when he received no response and looked down at the flaccid figure in Alfons's arms.

"Did Ed die again?" The man asked, shaking his head and chuckling when Alfons grimly inclined his head in confirmation. "What got him this time?"

"Uvula cancer," Heiderich grunted, gripping his blond comrade's hands and dragging him across the ground.

"Uvula cancer?" the engineer repeated, quirking his brow in amusement. "Well, that's new."

And as Edward was coercively tugged, pulled, and shoved across the floor and jerked under ladders and had numerous feet trip over him, he blinked open an ocher eye and a small grin played on his lips.

He had won.

Ha, ha, Alfy.

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**This is completely and utterly spontaneous. I had no plotline, inspiration or anything at all. I just had a keyboard, a blank page, and a random idea. By far one of the least difficult oneshots I've written. **

**I may write more Edward and Alfons oneshots. I really like that couple. If Roy and Edward weren't already my official OTP, I might consider Edward and Alfons to be.**

_**Disclaimer: **_**FMA belongs to the articulate cow. The random variations of Alfons's name belong to me. Alfons's sobriquet, Alfy, belongs to **_**Ayumi Elric**_** and myself.)**

**End note: The uvula is the dangly thingie at the back of your throat. If you pull on it, it'll make you honk and gurgle like a duck with an almond stuck in its throat. Even though that wasn't my fault. How was I supposed to know that ducks don't chew their food?**


End file.
